


my l'manberg

by notmymisa



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, au where ghostbur remembers everything, i have no patience so everything i write is short, i know wilbur doesn't have a grave but he should so i gave him one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmymisa/pseuds/notmymisa
Summary: Sometimes, Wilbur thinks, it would be better if he didn’t remember.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 11





	my l'manberg

Sometimes, Wilbur thinks, it would be better if he didn’t remember. Remembering meant knowing he tried to kill everyone he held close. Remembering meant that he recognized the barely masked remorse in Phil’s eyes when he looked at him. Remembering meant that every time he handed someone blue, it was already full of regrets.

Because he regrets everything. Well, maybe not everything. He doesn’t regret the early days, with Tommy and Tubbo and Fundy. He doesn’t regret L’Manberg. 

But when he thinks of what he did to this country, his beautiful country, he… He doesn’t know what to do. He’s apologized in every way that he can. He does his best to help everyone else along; he does his best to rebuild. He does his best, but...

It isn’t his country anymore.

It’s hard for him to know what’s his. He had so much and so little in life, and now… he stands somewhere in between. He has people, his family, his friends, but they’re all still people he betrayed. Material items don’t mean much to a ghost. And what else is there?

Sometimes, Wilbur expects to wake up alive. Maybe it’s just because being a ghost is new to him, but every time he takes a step he expects to feel a _thump_ as his foot hits the ground. He expects to feel the weight of gravity burden his limbs. He expects it, but it just… isn’t there. Nothing is there, really. He isn’t. All that’s left of him is a body in a grave and his consciousness, a small piece of what he once was left as a reminder of everything that he did.

And he hates it. He likes when he makes people smile. He likes when people are happy. But all he does is _remind_ everyone of every fucked up word he said, every inch of ground he decimated. And he can’t do anything about it.

He hates feeling worthless. He hates feeling like nothingness, like there is nothing he can do, like he could scatter apart at the smallest gust of wind. He hates lying to everyone, saying he doesn’t remember, blocking out everything until he’s alone. He hates pouring his worries into blue as if it will help.

Sometimes, Wilbur will sit and look at his gravestone. It’s not particularly remarkable, which he finds fitting. He doesn’t deserve anything extravagant. Sometimes, people will leave flowers. Wilbur finds it silly. He’s still here; and besides, what did he do in life to warrant them?

Sometimes, he’ll float away from the grave and turn to look over L’Manberg. Everything has been rebuilt, now. If you didn’t know, you’d think it had always been like this. But he knows. And when you look closer, you can see the remains of past tragedies. Under the glow of the lanterns, there are still decorations from Tubbo’s execution. Under the walkways, there is still a large, uneven crater. 

It’s beautiful, in an ironic way. His destruction led to something greater. L’Manberg is better than it has ever been—it’s no longer quite as unfinished.

And sometimes, when Wilbur sits at the top of the hill, gazing out at the sprawling country below, he’ll start to sing.

_I heard there was a special place…_

**Author's Note:**

> it's literally 5am why am i still awake


End file.
